Words Never Fail
by Granger-Danger-62442
Summary: A collection of oneshots for our favorite pair. Goes along with each letter of the alphabet.
1. Automatic

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Castle. Surprise, surprise.**

"Castle, get down!""

Beckett curses her luck as she and the writer dive behind some nearby crates. Of all the days not to wear her vest, they just had to walk into a warehouse containing two of the gang members they'd been hunting. She's silently thankful that she managed to convince Castle to put his on, despite all of his protests.

Edging around the side of their hiding spot, she fires a couple shots before ducking back to cover her head from the answering bullets. Slightly concerned, Castle tries to move closer to her, straying farther out from the safety shelter in the progress. When Beckett tries to signal him to get down however, he refuses.

"Beckett I'm not gonna-" His reply is cut short as their assailants send out another volley. This time the two are slower to dodge, and a shot gets so close to Beckett that the force of it lifts her hair.

Beckett shoves the writer back against the steel crate roughly. "Castle stay back!" She hisses at him angrily. "I'm fine, just stay down!" This time he remains where he is, his only response being to stare at her, expression blank. She jumps around one final time and two gunshots ring out.

Lowering her weapon from its raised position, Beckett releases her breath. The men lie on the ground several yards away clutching various body parts, and she quickly strides over to kick their guns out of their reach before phoning for backup to come and take them away.

Heading back over to her partner, she subtly scans him from head to toe, checking for damage, and is relieved when she finds none. Castle's doing the same to her, although he is being much more obvious about it. She can feel more than see his eyes flicking from one part of her body to the next, before meeting her gaze. There's only a couple feet separating the two of them, and he lifts his hand to touch her hair where the bullet almost hit her.

Opening his mouth as if he's about to say something, Castle's eye catches something over her shoulder and his hand freezes in midair. Beckett's brow furrows in confusion, but before she can question him, he leaps towards her.

Castle's body responds before his mind even processes what he's doing; and he's seizing his partner and spinning them both around without a second thought. The two shots hit him square in the back, and the impact sends the air rushing out of him in a large WHOOSH before he crumples to the ground.

Staggering, Beckett's head shoots up and searches wildly for their attacker. She spots the leader of the gang as he turns and begins to run, having emptied the last of his clip shooting at Castle. He's barely taken ten steps before he falls as well, although unlike his comrades, he won't be getting back up. Holstering her gun, Beckett immediately turns to her partner.

Right away she notices that there's no blood, and taking this as a good sign she gently shifts the writer so that he lying on his back, head propped in her lap. He lets out a groan and clenches his eyes shut.

"Castle!" She breathes, relieved that he still seems to be coherent. "Castle talk to me, where does it hurt?"

"Nghh Beckett." He lets out another complaint, lifting his hand a few inches and waving it feebly, as if to ward her off. "M'fine." He groans, hand falling back to his side. "The vest took it. S'kay."

Beckett watches as he tries to get re-oriented, his gaze traveling dazedly around the room. Eventually he searches for her, and when he has to look directly _up_ to meet the detective's gaze, he seems to realize their position. He attempts to sit, and she places a hand on his shoulders to keep him in place.

"Easy there." She tightens her grip slightly, and at his slightly befuddled gaze she raises an eyebrow. "Don't get any ideas. That shot could've broken a rib; you shouldn't move until someone checks you out. God forbid you go and die on me; I have enough paperwork to do as it is without you making things worse." She tries to cover the slight tremor in her voice with a joke, but she knows that he's called her bluff when his hand slowly travels up his shoulder to lace his fingers with hers.

The EMTs arrive to check everyone out, and after a bit of patching up -and quite a bit of whining- the writer is back to his old self.

More or less.

The two partners head out of the warehouse, one hovering slightly and the other whining non-stop about how much pain he's in. Beckett lets him, because she knows that his annoying actions are just his way of coping with the fact that he just got shot. There's something that's been bothering her though, but she just can't seem to place it. Then, somewhere amidst all of Castle's whining, it hits Beckett like a ton of bricks:

_That bullet was meant for her._

Beckett stops dead in her tracks, and it takes a few moments for the writer to realize that she's no longer following him. Turning back around, he notices that she's looking at him strangely.

"Beckett?" The detective doesn't respond, just continues to stare at him blankly. "Kate? Something I can help you with?" He waves a hand in front of her face half heartedly, but winces at the twinge the sudden motion sends shooting up his back. The brief expression of pain on his face seems to snap Beckett back to reality. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glares at him.

"Why'd you stop the bullet Castle?"

She's honestly curious; the man isn't a cop, lacks any police training whatsoever, and can count the number of times he's been in a shootout on one hand. That's why his answer catches her completely off guard.

"I wasn't thinking! It was just… automatic." Offering this as his response, the writer runs his hand through his hair somewhat sheepishly. Seeing Beckett's eyes narrow, signs of an impending lecture, he hurries to explain himself. "No listen! Honestly! You didn't see the guy before I did! He had a gun- I knew if I didn't get you out of the way he- you weren't wearing your vest-!" His excuses are now coming at such a speed that they're nearly incoherent; as he sees her take a step towards him, fire sparking in her eyes.

There are only inches separating them now, and Castle gulps, sending a final plea to God for mercy. He holds his breath as Beckett reaches out to grab a fistful of his shirt –presumably to have a better grip when she murders him for stupidity- and yanks him towards her. Closing his eyes, he waits for the sweet reprieve, (maybe his back would stop hurting him), of Death's embrace…

Well, he got the hug part right.

Opening one eye slightly, Castle is shocked to realize that he's not dead yet. Then he opens the other, and almost yelps in surprise because _Kate Beckett is hugging him. _

His arms wrap around her before fully processing this fact, and her head comes to rest right below his chin. The writer isn't entirely sure what's going on, but besides the soreness of his back he's sure as hell not about to complain.

The words come out muffled against his shirt, but he hears them anyway.

The detective isn't quite sure what to say to him after that little revelation, so she does the most un-Beckett like thing she can think of; she hugs him. Catching him completely by surprise, she can't help but smile slightly against his chest and murmur a quiet,

"Thank you."

Gathering up all the emotions she's felt in the past two hours, she crams them into those two tiny words.

The anger, mostly directed at herself, which heats her blood when he doesn't listen _again._

The guilt she feels for bringing him, a pedestrian into that situation in the first place.

That little flash of terror she felt when she saw him go down.

The unbridled relief that swept through her, when she heard him say her name.

And most off all the overwhelming gratitude that he is _her_ partner, and will have her back when all else fails, even when things get ugly.

_That's _when she punches him.

"What have I told you about wearing your vest?"


	2. Balloon

"Keep you eyes peeled, he's got to be around here somewhere."

"It's a carnival Beckett, there are thousands of places he could be hiding!"

"Well keep looking! The boys said our guy was wearing a neon hoodie, and a cowboy hat." She grimaced. "What that says for his fashion sense I'll never know, but it'll make him easier to spot."

She gripped the wire edge of the basket they were in, leaning over slightly to get a better view. Ok, so maybe the hot air balloon ride hadn't been her best idea. But she figured that this way, Esposito and Ryan could search the ground, while she and Castle could be their, 'eyes in the sky.'

"Becket… Are you sure that this is the only way to spot him?"

Castle's plea came out slightly muffled, and Beckett turned back to look at him. What she saw made her bite her lip to keep from laughing. Castle was standing smack dab in the center of the basket, huddled as close as he could get to the guy flying it. His face buried in his hands, and she knew without being able to see that his eyes were screwed shut. Schooling her voice into a less amused tone, she asked, "You alright over there?"

The writer peeked one eye through his fingers, glanced at the ground, and moaned. "Did I ever mention how much I hate heights?"


	3. Cake

"Alright kids, smile big now!" Martha's voice is warm, and Kate can't help the grin the slides onto her face.

Castle had invited his family from the precinct to a little get together at his loft to celebrate his birthday. The boys, not wanting to pass out on an opportunity to rib him about his age, happily complied. Lanie and Kate had agreed as well, and it was for this reason they were a currently all huddled around the writer while his mother snapped what felt like an endless amount of pictures.

Of course, when Castle voiced this, the actress had simply waved him off. "Nonsense Richard! You can never have too many pictures! Goodness knows you'll need something to remind when you're old and grey…" She'd sighed dramatically, and her son had leaned forward to stage whisper, "Not that she'd know anything about that."

The comment had earned him simultaneous smacks from the other two females in the room, and an exasperated, "Dad!" from his daughter.

Finally, they brought the cake over and lit up the candles. After a slightly off key round of 'Happy Birthday', Castle quickly blew out the flames.

"Wait a second Writer Boy; did you make a wish?"

The writer blinks innocently at Lanie. "No. Was I supposed to?"

Esposito isn't having it. "C'mon bro, you've got to at least make a wish before you blow out the candles!"

At this all the members of the room turn their eyes to the Hispanic detective, who fidgets uncomfortably. "What? Big family."

The writer lets out a dramatic sigh. "Fineee…" He draws the word out, as if to highlight his indignity. Beckett watches as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his mouth puffing out. He looks so much like a deranged fish that she can't help the laugh that escapes. He opens up an eye to wink at her, but his daughter quickly sets him straight.

"Dad! No peeking!"

"Right."

This time he blows the candles out so that everyone is satisfied.

"So Castle, what'd you wish for?" The question earns Ryan a punch in the arm from his partner, but right before he finishes speaking Beckett swears she sees Castle's eyes flit briefly in her direction.

"Come on man, everyone knows you're not supposed to ask that!" The two start off into an argument over the rules of birthday wishing, and Lanie heads over to talk to the two redheaded women. Beckett uses the excuse to slip over towards her partner.

He's still holding the cake with both hands, and she sees it as an opportunity to get in closer than she normally would. "So." she begins, trailing her fingers up his shoulder, watching as his eyes widen slightly. "I couldn't really think of anything to get you for your birthday this year…" Her fingers are now ghosting up his neck, coming to rest at the back of his head. She bites her lip and lowers her voice _just _enough.

"Do you want to know what your present is?" His swallows almost imperceptibly, and she takes that as her answer. She leans forward just a little more, her eyes closing slightly, her hand tightening its grip in his hair…

And shoves him face first into the cake.

There's a click and a flash, and the room bursts into laughter. Kate staggers over to Alexis, who is holding the camera, to check out the picture.

The author splutters indignantly, rubbing his face on a spare napkin he managed to find. He's about to protest when he sees Kate and his daughter clinging onto each other as they gasp for air.

Any hard feelings are immediately forgotten.

The time passes quickly, and before they know it things start winding down. Ryan begs off first, needing to get home and see Jenny before it gets too late. Beckett has to cough to cover her laugh as she watches him slip out of the room muttering, "Whipped; my ass," under his breath. Writer he is not.

Esposito and Lanie leave not long after, the former clasping the writer briefly on the on the shoulder. Lanie rises on tiptoe to peck Castle on the cheek. "Don't have _too_ much fun now Writer Boy." Esposito shakes his head in resignation, and Castle just grins as he watches them head down the hallway towards the elevator.

His mother and daughter have long retired upstairs with excuses of beauty sleep and homework respectively, which leaves just him and his partner. Kate reaches around him to snag her coat, and he waggles his eyebrows at her.

She rolls her eyes. "No Castle."

He pouts. "But you don't even know what I was going to say!"

The corner of her mouth twitches. "Don't need to; knowing you it was probably something that wouldn't have ended well."

The writer chuckles, because they both know she's right, and moves to help her into her coat. "I must say Detective, I'm rather disappointed."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He nods seriously. "You never _did_ get me a present. That's something I would expect of Ryan and Esposito maybe, but of you? C'mon detective, I would have at least thought-"

She leans up to capture his lower lip between hers; slowly running her tongue along it, and his fake argument melts away. She lingers just long enough to feel the hitch in his breathing, before pulling back.

Glancing up at his dazed expression, she manages a slightly shaky smirk. Kate leans forward one more time, and pauses next to his ear to whisper breathlessly.

"Happy Birthday."


	4. Dive

**Slow update again guys, sorry. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Andrew Marlowe's amazing creations, but I wish I owned Nathan Fillion. Mmm.**

* * *

Letter: D

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?

"Not gonna happen."

"Pretty please with a-"

"Rick!" Kate slides her sunglasses back so that she can glare at the writer, who has his head turned back to face her. "For the last time, I am not going to teach you how to dive."

She's perched on the edge of the pool, her feet dangling idly in the water as she observes the other pool goers. Rick is leaning back against the wall between her legs, and she's focused on pretending that the proximity isn't affecting her. Right.

"Why not? You taught Alexis!"

He's got that dramatic pout again, the one that appears whenever he's channeling his inner twelve-year-old. Kate, not one to pass up an opportunity, uses her foot to kick a generous amount of water into his face, smirking when he gasps and splutters. "I did not."

"Did too; you showed her how last summer!" He wipes his face. "That was unnecessary by the way."

She rolls her eyes. "Yea fine, in a pool that didn't specifically say, 'No Diving', and with a student actually capable of learning." Letting out a laugh at his indignant huff, she leans forward to lace her fingers on top of his head, resting her chin there.

"Besides," she adds, watching his hand underwater as he trails it unconsciously over her ankle. "I actually _like_ Alexis."

He's making it too hard to concentrate. Lifting her foot out of his reach, she brings it down hard enough to give him another face full of water. "You, however, are a different story."

"Come on Kate, I'll be fine. It's at least…" He glances at the numbers printed out several feet away. "…Eight feet deep! That's plenty of room!"

"Oh, eight feet you say? By all means then, go ahead." She raises her chin to free her hand and waves it dismissively towards the sign. "Just don't expect me to haul your unconscious ass out of the water when you crack your head."

The writer is quiet for a moment, and Kate, thinking she's won, closes her eyes to enjoy the momentary peace.

"That reminds me; there _is_ something else I've always wanted to learn."

She can feel his voice, suddenly soft, rumble up through her hand, and she hums absently in encouragement.

When he doesn't continue, and she cracks open an eye. "Care to share with the class?"

He turns beneath her, the movement so abrupt that Kate loses her balance. Eyes widening, she lets out a yelp and pitches forward, nearly falling in. He manages to reach up and steady her just in time, her wrists coming to land on his shoulders.

Castle grins up at her startled expression, their faces merely inches apart. Leaning forward just enough to catch the hitch in her breathing, he murmurs his idea against her lips.

"CPR."

* * *

**R&R please? I really do appreciate it! :D **


	5. Explosion

Her first thought is that she's surprised; not because she hadn't seen this coming, but because it had taken so long to do so.

All of the warning signs had been there, laid out neatly in front of her.

It had started with the lashing out, the unreturned phone calls, and escalated to nights spent on the precinct couch. Hell, even the boys had noticed something was off, but she'd either been too blind to see it, or had chosen not to.

Probably a little of both.

Either way, when he shows up at her doorstep, he doesn't beat around the bush, doesn't hesitate. He merely gives her a choice. An ultimatum.

She gets to decide; him, or _him_.

Because he's done; done competing with a ghost, (amongst other things); done with the dark past that he's tried desperately to understand; done with giving his best effort to knock down those walls, only to have them rebuild themselves almost instantaneously.

He's finished lying to himself- to them. He's made the best effort he can; told her over and over again that he loves her, that he'll always be there for her. Or rather, he would if she let him, but that doesn't seem like something she wants, or is even able, to do anymore.

He leaves without another word, the answer hanging unspoken between them.  
She locks the door behind him.

Deep down, she'd always suspected that this was going to happen.

They were cut from the same stone; passionate, driven, stubborn; too stubborn maybe, to see that this, this precarious thing that they had, was fragile. Highly combustible.

Yet neither of them had bothered to do a thing about it, and now it was about to blow up in both of their faces.

Something tells her that this was inevitable though, that this entire thing was doomed to go up in flames from the start. (Fire and fire never did make a good combination. She's got the burns to prove it.)

Maybe now it's time to stop hiding; time to face the music.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the last step, the final spark needed in order to end this façade once and for all.

She'd struck the match and handed it to him, watching as he lit the fuse.

Now, all she could do was wait for it to go off.

* * *

**Not too sure if I like this this one. Certainly conveys a different mood. **

**Thoughts? **


	6. Facade

**I know it's a little late guys, but hopefully it was worth it! I had to wait for the right inspiration to strike, and boy did it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. ..Yet.**

* * *

"Castle!"

Beckett's hiss is barely audible over the hustle and bustle of the precinct, but somehow the writer in question manages to pick it out amongst the chaos. Glancing up, he's just in time to catch the detective not so surreptitiously beckoning to him from one of empty interrogation rooms. He watches in confusion as she mouths, 'Come here!' and disappears into it.

Pocketing his phone, he glances around to see if either of the boys had noticed the exchange. They had.

Esposito smirks and raises an eyebrow.

Ryan glances between the door and the man in front of him, regarding them both somewhat suspiciously.

Castle just shrugs and does as he's told, heading over to the door Beckett had previously vanished behind. (He's learned from experience not to mess with the detective when she wants something.)

He pauses in front of the entrance, and raises a hand to knock dubiously.

"Beckett?"

Her hand shoots out to grab him by the front of his shirt, and he lets out a yelp as he's forcibly yanked forward.

He manages to catch the curious gazes of the boys as they rise from their desks before they vanish from sight, and the door slams shut behind him.

"So." Beckett's voice makes him jump slightly, and he turns toward its direction. She's making her way towards the table in the center of the room; seemingly oblivious to the small scene she's just caused. Something about her seems off though; tense. Like she's plotting an idea and doesn't want to share.

Perching on top of it, she swings her legs back and forth, and he _knows_ something is up.

Figuring whatever this is about is worth any more potential bodily harm she may inflict, Castle moves to so that he is directly across from her, leaning against the two-way mirror.

"You know that betting pool that's been doing the rounds through the precinct?" Her voice is nonchalant, but there's an underlying tone to it that he can't quite identify.

"Could you possibly narrow it down at all?" He's starting to get an idea of what this is about, and isn't sure the outcome will be pleasant. "I happen to know of several large pools out there that-"

"The one with enough money to cover me, Ryan, and Esposito's paycheck for an entire year."

Oh. That one. _Their_ bet.

She slides off of the table, advancing towards him, and there's something in her eyes that's got him suddenly nervous. Something in the back of his mind is screaming, _Abort mission! Abort! Abort! Abort! _

Yet when Beckett pins her gaze on him, he can't seem to get his feet to move.

She continues to close the distance between them, the writer's eyes widening more and more with each step.

"You see," she begins, her words slow and deliberate, "it just so happens that it may be a certain medical examiner's turn to cash in."

Beckett rises up slightly on her toes to whisper against his ear, and her warm breath washes down his neck, causing him to shiver involuntarily. "Hypothetically speaking, this medical examiner may also have promised to split her winnings with a certain detective."

The writer, for once in his career, struggles to form a coherent sentence.

She smothers a grin, angling her head so that it just barely brushes against his nose, feeling his sharp intake of breath.

"What's wrong Castle?" She teases. "Cat got your tongue?" She reaches up to run her thumb along his jaw line, splaying her fingers against his neck.

He starts to stutter something out, but trails off incoherently when her lips ghost along his cheek.

"Do you think," she breathes, pulling back so that their mouths are mere millimeters away, "that they've snuck into the observation room yet?"

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he let's out an unintelligible sound instead of an answer, leaning forward almost unconsciously.

Beckett smirks and brushes his nose with hers again, missing his lips by an infinitesimal amount. "In that case," she tightens her grip on the back of his collar, "maybe it's time to up the ante."

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	7. Glove

"W-why do I let you talk me into these things?"

"Because you know from experience how good my ideas are?"

"Uh, no."

"Because you wanted to bask in the awesomeness that is my company?"

"Run that by me again?"

"Because you took pity on the boys and pulled me out of there before things got ugly?"

"I don't know what came over me."

Kate tugs her scarf so that it shields more of her face from the frigid wind. In her opinion, you had to be either very brave, or, (she glances towards her right,) very stupid to even consider traversing the park in the ankle deep slush.

"Seriously Castle, we don't have time for this. Gates only gave us half an hour for lunch." She jams her hands deeper into her coat pockets, silently berating herself for forgetting to bring anything to keep them warm.

His reply is unabashedly cheerful. "Relax Beckett we're fine. It's Central Park, in the _snow_; tell me you're not impressed."

"I didn't say it wasn't _pretty_." She rolls her eyes. "We just don't have a lot of time to enjoy it if we expect to be back before the Captain rails us." Shaking her head slightly, she dutifully returns her attention to their surroundings.

So maybe pretty was an understatement. The midday sunlight reflects off of the fresh snow, and the entire park seems to let off a dazzling glow. The sigh left even Kate momentarily speechless when she first saw it.

"Alright Castle I'll give it to you." She reluctantly acquiesces. "You got one right for once. But why," she continues, clenching her teeth stubbornly to keep them from chattering, "did you have to go and suggest it on the coldest day this year?"

He lets out a snort of disbelief. "You make it sound like it's the coming of the second ice age or something. Honestly? It's not that bad."

Kate notices with some satisfaction that, despite his words, his nose and ears are tinged a light pink. "You sure about that Rudolph?"

"You wound me with your words." Clutching at his chest, he staggers into her, and she laughs in spite of herself, shoving him away.

This causes him to stumble for real however, and he reaches out for balance, somehow managing to loop his arm through hers in order to steady himself.

She leaves it there.

"My fragile self esteem may never be the same, all thanks to you Detective."

"You poor thing." Maybe it's the atmosphere getting to her, but suddenly she feels sneaky. Mischievous even. Gazing up at him through her eyelashes, she chews on her lip innocently. "I guess I'll have to find some other way," she lowers her voice; tugs his arm closer, "to make it up to you."

The proximity causes his eyes glaze over for a moment, before he comes to his senses and pulls his head back with a jerk. He glowers at her, grumbling something that sounds suspiciously like "tease" under his breath.

"I'm sorry what was that?"

"Nothing Detective, nothing. The sheer power of the coldness must be making you hear things."

She smirks, already adding another tally to her running list of victories, when he leans in once more.

"Although," she jumps, his breath suddenly warm against her ear, "if the temperature is bothering you so much, I'd be happy to help you get warm." With that, he pulls back; continuing on as though nothing has happened.

Kate, stumbling slightly as she's pulled along with him, blinks dazedly:

She's sure now that the flush on her face has nothing to do with the cold.

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	8. Haunted

**Disclaimer: Yea right. **

* * *

"What was that?"

"What was what? There's nothing there."

"I swear I heard something. It sounded really close too."

Beckett sighs. Clicking her flashlight on just to appease him, she glances around the dimly lit room. "You can't seriously tell me that you're scared of a rundown old house."

Castle eyes flit from one spot to the next nervously. "You know the rumors about this place! How no one who goes in it ever comes out?" He makes sure not to stray more than a few feet away from the Detective, his own flashlight having burnt out an hour ago. "Don't you find that the least but suspicious?"

"Alright first off, the last person to go in here was a known heroin junkie-"

"-Yea, the last person whose body they _found_-"

"Secondly," she glares at the interruption, "this place probably has more mice than it does ghosts." She aims her beam in his face from across the room, and he lets out a squawk of protest. "So relax."

The words have barely passed her lips when there's a loud crash, and what faint light remains in the building flickers dangerously...

And goes out completely.

Mid-stride, Beckett stumbles in the sudden darkness, and her grip on the flashlight slackens. It goes flying out of her hand, skittering off into some remote corner of the room. Catching her balance, she squints into the gloom.

"Castle?"

"Uh…" There's a pause, as if he too is gathering his bearings. "Polo?"

Reaching out a hand in the general direction of his voice, her fingers graze something soft. She's rewarded a small shriek.

Yep. Found him.

"That would be my face. Note to self: Detective Beckett gets hands-y in the dark." His voice lowers to a whisper. "Just so you know, I'll be storing this for future reference."

She may not be able to see him, but she can tell he's smirking. Rolling her eyes, she's glad for the darkness to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

"Shut up Castle."

"Uh-huh, notice how you didn't deny it."

Beckett's about to protest when something warm lands on her shoulder, and she gives an involuntary start. His small chuckle reaches her ears, and she swears silently.

"Feeling a little jumpy there?"

"Hark who's talking."

"Touche."

She feels his hand slide across her bicep, trailing down her arm all the way down until he's able to snag her fingers.

"Wouldn't want you to get lost or anything."

"Right. I think you just wanted to hold my hand."

"You doubt my act of chivalry?"

"Like you haven't been waiting the whole night for this _exact_ opportunity."

"Hardly. We all know what unmentionable things you would do to me if I tried. Your self control would go right out the window."

"Oh, there are a few things I want to-"

A sudden gust of wind tears through the dilapidated old building, cutting her off mid sentence. Somewhere in the distance a door slams shut with a bang, and both of them jump, shifting closer instinctively.

"How about we continue this conversation later?"

"Couldn't agree more."

* * *

**So this one came out awkwardly. I started it, got really into 'I', and then realized I hadn't finished this one yet. Not sure if I'm completely sold, especially on the ending. Feedback appreciated!**


	9. Ice

"Jesus Kate! Are you crazy?" He runs to meet her as she drags herself out of the freezing lake, coughing and spluttering. "Exactly how thickly did you think that was frozen?" The detective gasps, stumbling into him, and tears spring to her eyes as the frigid air pierces her lungs like a knife.

Struggling under her mostly dead weight, he leads them towards a nearby group of trees. She leans against one, struggling to regain her bearings, and watches as he shrugs out of his coat. Draping it over her, he runs his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to create heat, wondering if one of them should call for EMTs.

"S'n-not that b-bad… C-Castle." She finally manages. "D-don't need a b-bus." She spits each word out past numb lips and chattering teeth, and he marvels at the fact that even in her disoriented state she's still managed to read his mind. "S'f-fine. G-got the guy, d-didn't we?"

And they had. Their lead, sending them almost an hour out of the city, had turned out to be good one. Their guy however, hadn't wanted to go down without a fight. He'd led them through several backwoods neighborhoods before they'd managed to corner him at the edge of a surprisingly large lake. That's when the suspect had decided to play chicken over how far her team would follow him onto the ice.

Beckett, of course, would have none of it. With all three of her boys flanking her, she'd chased him a good twenty feet onto the frozen patch before bringing him down. The impact however, had sent cracks spider webbing out from where their bodies hit, and both suspect and detective had gone plunging into the frigid water.

For a few terrifying seconds, neither of them had been visible under the dislodged ice. Panicked, but unable to help, Castle and the boys had stood by as the two underwater struggled. Fortunately the place where they'd fallen in was within distance of the bank, and somehow Beckett had been able to haul both herself and their panicking criminal back onto solid ground.

The boys were taking care of the rest. In the distance he could see Ryan placing the cuffs on the suspect and jerking him towards the cars. Esposito catches Castle's eye and waves him off, jerking his head towards Beckett. The writer nods, and Esposito returns it, hurrying to catch up with his partner.

Castle's attention snaps back to the sopping wet Detective standing in front of him. She's white as a sheet, her lips getting bluer by the second, and he feels close to helpless.

He watches as Beckett fists her hand in the heavy material that's draped over her shoulders, and tries to discreetly tug it closer.

Unbidden, memories he though he'd gotten over flash before his eyes, ring in his ears. Nightmares he'd done his best to ignore.

_Well below freezing…_

Priorities. He's got to prioritize.

His eyes catch on the blue and red lights of approaching cruisers: looks like their 'backup' is just now arriving. Pulling up to the scene, one of the officers steps out of his vehicle, and Esposito is quick to intercept him. Perfect.

"I'll go see if these guys have any more blankets."

Still shivering, she can only manage a nod in reply, and stares blankly into the distance as he hurries off.

By the time he returns, Kate looks a little better. She's still huddled against the tree, apparently lacking the energy to move even a few steps, but some of the color has returned to her face. She looks up when she hears him approach, and a weak smile makes its way on to her face.

"Thanks." The whisper is faint, and it's all he can do to restrain himself to a nod.

Castle starts to settle the blankets over her, when he notices that his coat is soaked through. "You should, uh, probably take that off first…" He stops mid sentence as what appears to be an attempt a smirk finds it's way onto her face. The sight looses the knot in his stomach somewhat, and he moves to take the clothing in question.

Except, she's still holding on to it. He raises an eyebrow.

Kate ducks her head and, for some reason, looks rather embarrassed. "I can't… " She tries to flex her fingers, "I can't get my hand to let go." She lets out a huff of laughter that breaks off towards the end.

_I can't feel anything…_

It's too much for the writer. Stepping forward, he grasps her hand, gently unfurling her fingers. Spreading them out so that they're flush with his, he laces them together in an attempt to transfer some of the warmth. She shivers violently, and the force of it sends the coat sliding a couple of inches down her shoulders. He reaches with his free hand to tug it back up, and realizes for the first time that she's not the only one shaking.

Releasing her hand, he bends over to pick up the forgotten blankets, trying not to think about half-drowned she looks, all wide-eyes, and pale skin. Straightening up he avoids her gaze, and tucks the blankets around her before stepping away.

"Castle." He shakes his head like a wet dog, too many thoughts tearing through it at once; the bomb, freezer, the ambulance; flashing in and out of his mind's eye with alarming clarity. They assault him, each one a blow; sticking to him, building up and up; and he can't seem to shake them.

_Never thought I'd freeze to death…_

"Castle!"

The anxiety in her tone causes his head to jerk up. The moment it does he's confronted with a surprisingly alert gaze. Beckett frowns slightly as she observes him, as though there's something she can't quite figure out in her muddled state. She must find whatever she's looking for though, because her expression clears, and she lets out a small sigh.

"I'm still cold Castle."

Lifting his gaze from where it's taken refuge once more in his shoes, he looks at her uncomprehendingly.

"I said," she repeats, raising her arms slightly, "I'm still _cold_."

Her partner inhales sharply, and Kate barely has a second to think before she's being crushed to him. Her arms slide around his waist almost immediately, reaching up to clench tightly in his shirt, and he buries his face in her hair.

The flood of memories slows immediately; changes.

_Thank you, for being there._

"Hey." She murmurs, hands rubbing calming circles onto his back. "Hey, it's fine, I'm fine. Everything's ok." He lets out a shuddering breath, and she can feel the heat of it fan across her neck.

Kate doesn't push him, knowing all too well how it feels to come this close to losing a partner. Hell, she's the one who almost drowned. No, right now all she can do is get him through it, do for him what he's done for her so many times.

She'll wait this out with him, no matter how long it takes.

_Always._

Always.

* * *

**See that shiny review button? I'd appreciate it.**

**A/N Yes I know, the 'always' can be a bit overused. Felt it was necessary in this case, especially since it was something actually said.**

**A/N 2.0 So I'd just like to point out that I totally wrote the haunted house chapter before I ever knew about Demons. Like a boss.**


	10. Jest

**Just in time for Thanksgiving! Have a good one for those who celebrate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.**

* * *

The snap of a shutter going off jolts Kate into awareness. She blinks groggily, squinting against the harsh lights glaring into her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she fights against the sleep crowding in at the edges of her vision, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Letting out the air in a whoosh, she sinks back into the couch, draping an arm over her face.

Wait. The couch. Her couch is _never _this comfortable.

There's another click. Her eyes shoot open.

"Why good morning detective, did we sleep well?"

"Castle!"

He pulls the phone out of her reach right as she lunges for it, and her disoriented state causes her to pitch forward clumsily. The blanket that he must have covered her with tangles; wrapping around her feet and preventing her from ending matters then and there.

Laughing, Castle jumps up from his spot on the armrest and scurries away. He circles around to the back of the couch, putting it safely between him and his irate partner.

"Apparently not." His voice is full with amusement, which even in her sleep-deprived state manages to annoy her. "Note to self, Kate Beckett is not a morning person."

She growls, swinging her legs off the couch and stumbling to her feet. Gaining her balance, she starts to make her way around furniture separating them.

"Give me my phone Castle." Her glare intensifies as he mirrors her movement, keeping the large piece of furniture in front of him.

"Now why would I want to do that? It's not _my_ fault that some people decided to pass out at my house. " He grins. "It's also not my fault that they happened to leave their phone lying about. Though I am enjoying all these lovely pictures on here of sleepy-Beckett." He thumbs through the photos, making a show of examining them closely.

"Let's see; there's this one, where you're all curled up in a ball… "

"Castle-"

"…Who sleeps with their mouth open like that? It's so weird."

"Castle I swear-"

"Oh and look; you've even got a little bit of drool in this one!"

"Seriously?"

With each picture he describes he can see her agitation increasing. If his eyes aren't deceiving him, she may also be turning a light shade of pink. Huh. He might like flustered Kate more than the sleepy one.

To be honest though, he doesn't know why he took the pictures. He supposes it has something to do with the fact that this is a side of Kate he never sees. At work she's Beckett; strong and impenetrable, unfazed by all that goes on around her. So, wanting to capture the moment, he'd innocently taken a few harmless snapshots with her phone. Spur of the moment and all that.

Of course, a large reason might simply be that Kate Beckett is damn cute when she's sleeping.

As if reading his mind, Kate narrows her eyes, using his momentary lapse of thought to her advantage by dashing around the couch. Castle, surprised by her sudden attack, fumbles the phone, and she shoots out her arm to grab it. He ducks away just in time, her fingers only managing to graze the edges of his sleeve, and she lets out a noise of frustration.

He runs out of the living room before she can recover, peals of laughter echoing behind him. Spinning around, Kate chases him into the kitchen where he's strategically hiding behind the island once again.

"Really Castle?" She taunts. "Letting my furniture do your battles for you? That's pretty cowardly."

He's not taking the bait, and raises his hands innocently. "Hey, I'm a lover not a fighter." He waggles his eyebrows. "I'd also be more than happy to prove that to you whenever you want."

Something flashes in her eyes, catching Castle off guard and sending his heart rate sky-high. She plays it off quickly though, covering it up with a smirk. "In your dreams writer-boy."

"Oh more than once trust m-" He lets out a squeak as Kate dives over the counter, latching onto his wrist with an iron grip.

That's when he knows he's screwed, because a cop versus a writer isn't even a comparison worth making, and there's no way in hell he can escape if she doesn't want him to.

That's not to say he can't try.

Tugging his arm back, he pulls Kate further over the counter, and she yelps in surprise. She's forced to release his hand in order to keep form going crashing to the floor, and he uses the chance to run back towards the couch.

"Castle!" She doesn't intend to let him get that far. Closing the distance between them faster than he had anticipated, Kate manages to snag his arm, using his forward momentum to swing him around. She shoves him none to gently into his refrigerator, pinning his arms on either side of his head.

"The phone Castle."

Too out of breath to respond immediately, he just stands there, taking her in. Her face is flushed- hair sticking up in all different directions- and he doesn't know how she plans on getting her phone back this way because he sure as hell doesn't feel like moving anytime soon.

Kate seems to come to this conclusion as well, changing tactics before he can blink.

"What's the matte, _Rick_?" She smiles up at him through her eyelashes, the light glinting off her hair in just the right way, and his tongue glues itself to the roof of his mouth. "Have I rendered you… speechless?"

There's something like a challenge in her eyes, and Castle attempts to salvage some of his dignity. Taking advantage of the fact that she can't step back without losing the leverage she has on his wrists, he leans forward so that his face is inches away.

"Not at all, _Detective_." She shivers slightly, tries to hide it. "I was just debating the wisdom of returning it."

"Oh really?" He takes pride in the slight breathiness of her voice. "Surely there must be some way that I could," her eyes flick down to his lips- "persuade you?" –back up.

Castle shifts so that those last few inches are reduced to centimeters. Nudging her nose with his, he watches her eyelids flutter as she fights to keep them open.

He breathes his reply against her mouth, his lips brushing hers with each word, and has to struggle to get the words out.

"I think I could be convinced."

Kate lets out a noise that falls somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, but he'll never know which one it is because she's closing the remaining distance between them, and all other thoughts flee his mind.

At first it's a gentle pressure, almost hesitant. There are no fireworks, no sparks of electricity that sizzle or flash. Just steady warmth; a sense of being so indisputably and undeniably _right_,that it takes his breath away.

Then her lips move against his, her grip on his wrists tightening, and that warmth turns into a slow burn. It spreads its way through his limbs, heating his blood. He pushes back, fighting for dominance, and wishes more than ever that she would just let go of his wrists so he could-

Something is toying with his fingers, and in the back of his mind alarm bells are going off. But Kate's mouth is hot on his, her body pressed up against him, and he's having trouble remembering his own name, let alone forming coherent thought.

Castle's hand jerks, and suddenly the pressure pinning his wrists is gone. His partner tears her mouth from his and ducks away, clutching something tightly in her hand.

Wobbly legs only get her so far before he's caught her again however, and he spins her around until she's facing him.

"Don't." He takes a step forwards, and she's forced to retreat. "Even." Another step. "Think about it." Kate's back hits the edge of the island, but he keeps moving until he's flush against her.

She smirks up at him with darkened eyes, sliding the offending object behind her back, her voice low and breathy. "Think about what?"

He growls. Reaching forward, he palms the back of her head, crashing his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. Her hands land on his chest, simultaneously pulling him to her and holding him off. Castle slants his mouth over hers, searching for the best angle, and she gasps. Using the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangles with hers, sending both of them up in flames.

Somewhere far away there's a clattering noise like plastic hitting tile… Then her hands are in his hair and he's too focused on kissing her senseless to think about it.

"You know," He pulls back slightly, gasping as she nips at his lip. "If you _really_ wanted those pictures-"

She pulls him back down, effectively silencing him.

"Shut up Castle."

He does.


	11. Knight

**Disclaimer: Not a snowball's chance in hell dearies.**

* * *

"Ow! Jeez Beckett, you could be a little gentler you know!"

"Serves you right, you big baby."

"Now is that any way to talk to someone who saved our lives?"

"Sure Castle, that's what happened." Kate pats his uninjured hand in a placatory way; pulling away quickly at the tingling sensation it sends shooting up her fingertips. Flustered, she rises off the couch, moving across the break room to throw away the extra bandages.

"I did!" A seemingly oblivious Castle scrambles to follow after her, catching up just as they arrive back at her desk, and they sink into their respective chairs.

Or rather, she sinks, and he flops down with a theatrical huff. "I don't know why you won't believe me!"

She rolls her eyes, jiggling the mouse to light up the monitor. "I'd hardly call what you did saving our lives."

He pouts. "It was a carefully devised distraction."

"Oh, really?" She raises an eyebrow, lured in despite herself. "Then what would you call a careless one?"

The writer cocks his head for a moment in consideration. A beat-

"Touché."

Kate smirks in victory. "It's alright Castle, I'm sure Ryan and Espo appreciated the sentiment."

He frowns. "Are you sure about that? The last time I saw them they seemed a little…"

"Put out?" She supplies at his hesitation.

"More like aggravated."

"Disheartened."

"Irritated."

"Disgruntled."

"Livid."

"Dejected."

"Ready to-"

"Murder you?" Esposito's voice breaks into their little exchange, and their heads swivel to the source as he and Ryan step off the elevator. "Yeah, I'd say that's about right." He stalks up to them, Ryan trailing somewhat more calmly behind, and Kate has to bite her lip to keep from bursting out laughing.

Cat hair coats both detectives from head to toe; ranging from individual strands on their jackets, to bright white clumps that cling to the little space that remains. The resulting effect is more than a little hilarious, especially when she notices that the Hispanic detective chose this particular day to wear black.

Noticing her struggle, Esposito shoots her a dark look, but she only stares back, unfazed. His glowers may work on all but the toughest of suspects, but she's glared down worse.

Castle however, has had no such experience, and when the detective swivels his head to him, he winces.

"You do realize that this is all your fault?"

He frowns. "_All_ my fault? Come on, don't you think that's a little-"

"Bro, you sicced what must have been thirty cats on us. Tell me how that's not your fault."

"Well how was I supposed to know that bag was full of cat food?" He replies, indignant. "Besides, you aren't the only one with battle wounds." Proffering his bandaged hand, he waves it around for emphasis. "See?"

Esposito scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure."

"It _was_ a good distraction." The writer insists stubbornly. "Slowed the guy down enough for you to catch him didn't it?"

"If it weren't for your little 'distraction' we wouldn't be covered in forty layers of cat crap in the first place!" Esposito retorts angrily, refusing to acknowledge the other part of the sentence. "I mean seriously, what were you thinking?"

"Not you most helpful idea man."

If she weren't focused so intently on his reaction, Kate might have missed how her partner visibly deflates at the Irishman's softly spoken words. Something suspiciously close to protectiveness sparks in her chest, and when she sees his jaw twitch in the way she knows only happens when he's feeling guilty, she sighs.

She knows they pair aren't truly mad, just smarting from their wounded dignity, but Castle, with his stupidly big heart, tends to take these things personally.

"Alright you guys, break it up." Kate cuts in, raising a hand to interrupt what looked to be the start of another tirade from Esposito. "I think he gets the point."

The pair of them shoot her an incredulous look, and even Castle seems surprised, albeit somewhat pleased, at her sudden defense.

What? It's not like she never- like she doesn't- ugh. Whatever.

She raises an eyebrow coolly. "Unless, of course, you'd like to continue this somewhere else. Because if you are I'd be more than willing to hold your earrings."

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate sees the corner of her partner's mouth quirk as he tries and fails to suppress a smile. He catches her gaze, gratefulness swimming in it, and a sudden affection surges through her that's so strong she's powerless stop it. Hastening to battle it back, she schools her expression into something other than love struck teenager (Really, Kate?) and turns quickly back to the boys.

Some of it must show on her face however, because while Esposito looks grudgingly chastised, Ryan is glancing from her to Castle with a thoughtful expression.

She returns the stare, daring him to say something, but he only shrugs, his expression infuriatingly smug. Shoving his partner in the back to get him moving again, Ryan rolls his eyes in semblance of defeat. "Come on man, give it up. There's no winning against her."

Esposito grumbles angrily, but acquiesces, turning to follow the other detective back to their respective desks with a mutinous expression on his face.

Kate shakes her head, amused despite herself. Turning back to her computer, she studiously avoids making eye contact with the man beside her. She can feel his gaze on the side of her head, but she won't look, won't turn, won't-

"What Castle?"

"Oh, nothing."

She hums, deciding she'll take the bait this one time. "What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing." He hesitates, as if adding effect, and she wonders briefly just how much of his mother he inherited.

"Fine then." She replies, turning her attention back to the monitor.

"It's just," he continues, as if he hadn't heard her, and she swallows a smirk. "It's nice to know that _some _people around here appreciate me." He throws his hands up in the air in a, 'what can you do?' gesture, and huffs out a sigh. "Because you seem to be the only one."

Kate hums. " I don't know. Ever stop to consider that maybe I just keep you around for the coffee?"

The writer's eyes narrow in disbelief, and he's opening his mouth to retort when she cuts him off with a laugh. "Yeesh, lighten up will you? Of course I care about you. Besides," she tacks on absently, almost as an afterthought, "No one gets to mess with my partner but me."

Castle goes unnaturally still beside her, and it takes a second for the words to catch up to her brain. When they do, she flushes, waiting for him to capitalize on her slip. The silence stretches on, and finally she can bear it no longer. Reluctantly, Kate lifts her gaze to his, and is startled at the expression on his face.

It's there, all of it. Out on display for her to see. She's not even quite sure he's aware, but it's everything, _everything_ comprised into that one look, and it takes her breath away.

Then it's gone, replaced by their familiar teasing, vanishing so quickly that she almost wonders if it was ever there at all. It's as if he's letting it go, giving her an out.

Only, she's not quite sure if she wants to take it.

"Why Detective Beckett, are you going to be my stalwart defender?" Castle grins as the faint redness creeps up her neck, lowering his voice. "My… " He leans in, both so that the boys don't hear and so his breath- accidentally of course- washes over her ear. "White knight?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she mutters, trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably if the uneven tone of her voice is anything to go by. His grin widens, and she growls under her breath.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah you were not saying it very loudly."

She catches him off guard, a pleased laugh escaping between his lips. This earns him a death glare from Gates through her office window, and the writer cringes, slouching back into his seat with a pout. Kate can't stifle a snort of amusement, (this just isn't his day), which of course has Gates rounding on her next. The detective ducks her head quickly like a schoolgirl caught passing notes, burying her nose in her paperwork in an attempt to look productive.

Sneaking a glance at her partner out of the corner of her eye, she finds him watching her with an epiphanic expression on his face. Her eyes widen.

"No Castle."

"But-".

"_No_." She hisses.

He pouts. "Come oooon Kate."

"Castle. I get enough flak from her as it is. Not happening."

"But you're supposed to be my knight in shining armor!"

"Yeah, but telling Gates to lay off isn't chivalrous, it's suicidal."

"Wait, so you _are_ admitting to defending me?"

She's got her retort ready this time. "No, but how about I make it up to you?" She grins at the eager expression on his face, leans back in to whisper conspiratorially.

"Once that hand heals, _maybe_ I'll think about letting you be my page boy."

* * *

**R&R?**


	12. Loud

**Disclaimer: So how 'bout that 'Always'?**

* * *

Right, smack dab in the middle of a particularly *ahem* vivid dream, Richard Castle wakes with a start.

Cracking opening one eye, he squints blearily at his bedside clock. In the darkness of early morning, he can barely make out a three preceding the other two digits. Satisfied that this is sufficient reason to return to slumber, he proceeds to do just that.

"Daddy!" Maybe not.

He groans inwardly, tugs the pillow over his head. _No_, his sluggish mind protests. _Sleeping. G'way. _If he can just pretend he's not awake…

"Daddeeeee!" This time the call is fused with a hint of exasperation and, more pressingly, a sharp knee, well, _pressed_ against his lower back.

Oof. It's too early to be conscious. Or making puns like that.

A moan from his right seems to agree on at least the former of these points.

"Mmm Rick." Kate rolls over onto her stomach, buries her face into the pillow. "Your son is awake."

"Before sunrise, he's your son."

His words are met with a huff of amusement, and she tilts her head to free her mouth. "Later, we can discuss your bizarre knowledge of Disney movies. Right now," she lifts an arm, fumbles around in the general direction of his head before locating the cushion currently acting as his shield. "You take your kid and you let me sleep."

Having spoken these words she jerks her arm away, taking the pillow with her.

Castle sighs and rolls onto his back, dislodging 'his' kid who promptly scrambles back up.

"Daddy," His three-year-old son whispers from somewhere near his hip.

"What?"

Hazel eyes blink back at him in the dark, wide and serious. Castle is about to ask again, when a roll of thunder rumbles in the distance, and the kid all but dives on top of him.

Ah. Ok then. They're – _ow_ – back to this.

"Jake- you gotta stop- slow your roll there." He expertly fields the cowering child, hauling him higher on his chest as he sits up to prevent any, uh, _lasting_ damage.

"What's wrong kiddo?"

Jake frowns, glancing out the window nervously. "The light goes boom?"

Castle lest out a started laugh. "Oh yeah. The 'boom' is thunder, sport. And the big light is called lightning."

"Light-ing."

"Close enough."

His son falls silent, contemplating this new discovery. Suddenly, another crack echoes through the room, and Jake flinches, fists clutching into the front of his father's shirt. "No like." He breathes.

"Hey, kiddo. It's ok to be scared."

"I not."

Rick chuckles, reaching over to comb his fingers through the hair that falls stubbornly into his son's face. Pushing it back, he's greeted with a protruding lip and obstinate expression.

"Want to know a secret?" He leans in, whispering conspiratorially into his son's ear. "Mommy hates thunderstorms too."

Jake frowns, narrowing in his eyes in an all too familiar way. "Nu-uh," he argues, shaking his head. "Mommys'not scared of anythin'. She's big."

Castle struggles to suppress a smile. "Adults can be afraid too." He taps the side of his head. "Like me. Want to know what scares me?"

The kid nods slowly, his face entirely too skeptical.

"Clowns."

Jake gives him look- seriously, that was a _look_- "But she's _mommy_. She knows clowns silly. Not scary."

Rick catches a poorly muffled snort from somewhere amid the mountain of blankets that seems to have accumulated since the last time he was paying attention.

Interesting.

Castle growls playfully. "I'll have you know sir, that clowns can be quite terrifying."

He chances a glance to the other side of the bed, but Kate's either too far gone to be paying close attention, or too tangled up to take the effort of extracting herself from her lair.

Perfect.

Rick turns back to the boy, silently holding a finger up to his lips and nodding in Kate's direction. Jake's eyes widen, glancing from Castle, to his mother, and back again. His face splits into a grin. He looks over towards the mound of blankets one more time, and then scoots back towards the foot of the bed.

"How terry-fying Daddy?"

"Well," Castle begins. "They wear all this makeup, so that you can't really see their faces. And their shoes are way too big. Who knows that they could be hiding in there?" Slowly, he inches closer to Kate. His son presses a fist to his mouth to suppress a giggle.

"But you want to know what I really don't like about clowns?" Jake nods his head. Another roll of thunder greets them, more subdued this time, but the boy is watching his father with rapt attention, and doesn't even flinch.

Castle winks. "They're really quiet. So you don't ever know," he reaches a hand towards his wife, grasps the sheet on top. "What they're gonna do-"

There's a flurry of movement, a high-pitched shriek from near his feet, and suddenly he's on his back, staring up into his wife's twinkling eyes.

"-next." Castle frowns. "Did I also mention that they're sneaky? Sneaky people aren't fun."

Kate snorts, leans down to press her lips to his hotly. He grunts in surprise, but she's already pulling back. "And who," she breathes, "was the one doing the sneaking exactly?"

"At least I wasn't pretending to be asleep this entire time." Rick mumbles, fumbling for her mouth again.

"I wouldn't have to pretend if people would just be _quiet_." With a final nip at his jaw, she rolls off of him and slides into a sitting position.

"Come here." Kate makes a beckoning motion, and their son scrambles across the bed towards her, throwing himself into her lap.

"Jake, honey, it's alright if you're afraid of the thunderstorm. Some people don't like loud noises, so storms bother them. "

He sighs against her, tucking his head into her neck. "But why are they so loud? Don't they know it nighttime?"

She pulls back look at him, confused. "Who?"

"The people makin' the light-ing."

Oh. Ok. That works.

"Sometimes people aren't very considerate. They don't understand the others are tired, and just want to _sleep_." She raises an eyebrow at Rick over the top of her son's head, and he sticks his tongue out. She grins.

"Well someone should tell 'em. So they not mean an'more."

She chuckles. "We'll get right on that kiddo. In the meantime," she shoots Rick a sly look out of the corner of her eye. "Whenever it gets really loud, you can just pretend that those are clowns chasing Daddy, trying to get him to like them."

"Hey!"

"S'okay daddy." Jake mumbles sleepily, terror already forgotten. "If you get scared you can come sleep w'me. I'll tell mean clowns to 'way..." And then he's out.

Castle sighs. "Really? You just had to capitalize on the clown thing?"

"What?" She smiles innocently, leans over to place the kid on her other side before rolling towards her husband. "It's not like it isn't true."

"I'm not really _scared_ of them," he growls, moving so that he's hovering over her. "They just freak me out a little."

She laughs. "The Thompson case? I distinctly remember you hiding behind me and refusing to let go of my hand the entire time."

"Esposito still won't let me live that down."

"Oh, and what about that time with the pie and the-"

"Once! That happened one time!"


End file.
